


don't think don't blink

by sebootyslay



Series: guns 'n kisses [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Aoba Johsai Members - Freeform, Fukurodani Members - Freeform, Inarizaki Members, M/M, Mild Depiction of Violence, Mild Sexual Content, Nekoma Members - Freeform, Shiratorizawa Members - Freeform, not me gettin hot and bothered while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebootyslay/pseuds/sebootyslay
Summary: Mafia drabbles involving Fukurodani, Nekoma, Shiratorizawa, Aoba Johsai and Inarizaki, all inspired from different things.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kita Shinsuke & Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: guns 'n kisses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134347
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	1. cold tokyo buildings

Fukurodani

488 words

Queens - We Will Rock You

“Bokuto-san,” the man with gun-metal blue eyes has a soft yet firm tone. He was silent before, but at his one call, the owlish man with bright golden eyes immediately pulled himself back from his imposing lean. The fur on his large coat jostled as he bounded over to the man calling him.

“Akaashi,” he grinned, teeth bared and eyes shining under the bright lights of the city that spilled in through the ceiling to floor windows. This man, Akaashi, had an impassive look on his face, but the lines on his mouth softened as Bokuto leaned down to press his cheek to his temple. “Yes?” His voice was eager.

“Stop that now,” Akaashi said gently, and a hand crept up to settle on the taller one’s nape. At the soft squeeze of his long fingers, Bokuto visibly shuddered. The grin was still on his face, but the unhinged glint in his eyes faded slightly. “Slow down.”

“Yes, Akaashi,” If Bokuto had a tail, it was sure to be waving from side to side at the attention Akaashi was giving him. Akaashi smiled, finally, and the hand on his neck travelled up to Bokuto’s spiky hair.

“Let’s finish this cleanly, hm?” his voice was soft and warm over Bokuto’s ears, and the owlish man shuddered again, this time out of excitement. His boy was shaking with energy so much that his curled fists were trembling. At the soothing touch of Akaashi, the trembles slowed down. “Slow,” the man reminded the mafia leader. His voice was hypnotizing. “Slow, and steady.”

“Of course,” Bokuto nodded his head. “Slow and steady.”

“Good boy,” Akaashi pressed a chaste kiss on Bokuto’s cheeks. He then let the man go. It was a fascinating dynamic, how Bokuto was the one in charge with his large presence and loud voice. But at one flick of Akaashi’s dainty fingers or a glance from his pretty eyes, Bokuto was ready to serve, knees bent and eyes wide with obedience.

Bokuto straightened up and stepped back. He walked back over to the chair in the middle of the room. He sat down, legs spread and coat overflowing down the sides. Akaashi silently went over to stand next to the large chair.

“Well then,” Bokuto let out a loud and boisterous laugh, but there was danger laced behind it. The friendly grin on his face morphed of that into something sinister as he regarded the person on their knees in front of him. With their hands tied and at least three other pair of eyes on them, they didn’t dare to move. The floor was cold as it squeezes the warmth away from the person kneeling on the floor. High rise buildings in Tokyo were never warm, especially during seasons like these.

Bokuto placed his elbows on his knees as he leaned down, and there was an unfamiliar wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Now let’s settle this quick, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the big ass coat Bokuto and Akaashi were wearing during the Tokyo Battle stage play. It just screams mafia boss, you know?


	2. eyes that glow

Nekoma

452 words

TroyBoi - Do You

The blonde man at the desk raised an eyebrow as people suddenly came bombarding into the office.

“Kuro,” his voice had a lazy lilt to it, the tone slightly annoyed at his interrupted business. A pair of headphones hung around his neck, the sight of it slightly odd considering the old and classic layout of the room and neatly pressed suit he was wearing. The dark mahogany desk was littered with papers strewn about, and a two slim PC screens lit up the dark room. “What are you doing?”

“Kenma,” the black-haired man dragged the last syllable, deep voice echoing in the large office. Black leather shoes tread over the soft carpet. Kenma watches as Kuroo made his way around the desk. “Always messy,” he tsked.

“That’s not the issue,” Kenma’s eyes shifted to the person brought into the room, hands bound by cuffs. “What’s this?”

“A problem?” Kuroo had already neatly stacked the papers on the table. With the recently emptied space, he leaned on the edge, eyes boring into the man below him. “You were using the computer in the dark again.” His finger reached out and a thumb gently swiped at the skin beneath Kenma’s eyes.

“Mmm,” Kenma chose to not reply. He was much smaller and shorter than the man leaning half of his weight on the desk, but it was clear on who called the shots. Still, he leaned into the touch. Kuroo’s eyes looked at the seated man, fondness spilling out of every careful action. Something moved in the dark that made the person jump. A shadow in the shadows. The shadow leaped up and landed daintily on the desk, its small feet navigating through the objects effortlessly. Kenma raised a hand and the shadow rubbed its head on it affectionately. The cat let out a soft purr and Kenma stroked its sleek, black coat.

“Kenma-san,” another figure made his way to the desk. Kenma’s eyes darted up and locked gazes with a tall man with silver hair. “It’s about the thing.”

“Ah,” Kenma didn’t need another explanation. The cat moved to its owner’s lap, purring when Kuroo reached a finger to rub against its cheek. As the cat settles in, Kenma’s eyes moved to the person in the middle of the room.

All three eyes zeroed into the person. In the darkness of the office in the large mansion, their eyes glowed. A soft purr, and a smaller pair of eyes focused on them as well. As lightning and thunder crashed outside the large Victorian-style windows situated behind the desk, the brief flash of light illuminated the room.

Eyes silently watch, pupils reduced to slits and irises bright and alert, like those of a feline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rich leader Kenma? Hell fucking yeah gimmie that good shit. Imagine Victorian mansions and intricately carved furniture and soft rugs


	3. go chase

Shiratorizawa

520 words

The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army (Glitch Mob Remix)

“Wakatoshi-kun~” The man with red hair skipped to another man seated behind a desk. A knife glinted his hands, his blown-out pupils and sharp teeth sending shivers down the captured person’s spine. “So, what do you think?”

Wakatoshi, or more famously known as Ushijima, just sat silent. His olive eyes held a heavy and piercing gaze. His mouth was pressed in a firm line, eyebrows furrowed. The chair he was sitting on was large, evident from how it could completely shadow the red-head’s body. But the sight of Ushijima just filling the seats with his body, the promise of strength behind his silent eyes and perfectly placed clothes, he was a man to be feared.

“I have yet to make my decision, Tendou.” His voice was loud and booming. The captured person flinched, but the copper-haired man holding him from behind barely even moved. Ushijima’s voice was intense and its bass seeped into their bones, rattling one’s soul to its core. Maybe that’s why the mafioso was always so silent.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou sat behind the chair. His arms extended so that it would cage Ushijima from behind. His fingers were bandaged – no, taped – and they slowly slid down the length of Ushijima’s arms. The back of the chair was low, enabling Tendou to rest his chin on Ushijima’s left shoulder. His wide expression was reduced to half-lidded eyes as he leaned into the man. He looked like the devil, waiting to whisper sins into Ushijima’s ears. “Good things shouldn’t be left waiting.”

Ushijima was still silent; his heavy gaze had not moved from the person bounded in front of him. Tendou dragged the knife down one arm and pressed the side of the cold steel on the back of Ushijima’s hand.

“As exciting as this is,” Tendou’s pitch dropped lower, his left-hand gripping Ushijima’s left wrist. “I get tired of playing with food, Wakatoshi-kun.” Ushijima tilted his head back slightly. Tendou turned to face him, a lazy smirk on his face. Ushijima watched him at the corner of his eyes, mulling his thoughts.

“Let him go.” Was his decision. Tendou looked like he wanted to protest, but he kept his mouth shut. He slowly straightened his body, dragging his hands up Ushijima’s arms. He stood straight, crossing his arms behind his back.

“Kenjiro-kun,” Tendou’s playful voice lost a little of its energy. “You heard the man.”

“Yes.” Kenjiro let go of the person, swiftly uncuffing their hands. The person quickly bowed and exited the room in hurried steps. It was quiet for a while.

“Sometimes you’re no fun, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou broke the silence and sighed, a pout evident on his lips. Ushijima hummed.

“Tendou,” his deep voice beckoned Tendou close. Large hands took the knife laying on the table. Ushijima pressed its handle to Tendou’s outstretched palms. There was something dark in his eyes as he looked up to the red-head’s face. Tendou finally realized what Ushijima was planning in his silence, and his grin grew almost to his ears, eyes now opened wide and wild. Ushijima just nodded his head, and the corner of his lips lifted slightly.

“Fetch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feral Tendou? bark bark growl grr arf arf. Inspired by that one pic by @BRTRmilk_ at twitter


	4. touch, baby

Aoba Johsai

579 words

Cardi B - WAP ft Megan Thee Stallion

The music in the club is loud and deafening, but the man sat relaxed on one of the VIP section’s couch. There was no one dancing on the private stage in front of him, but he was more content to settle into comfortable conversation with the pink-brown haired male next to him. Their conversation was interrupted when the door to the room burst open, and a man with soft brown hair stomped in. His face was clearly upset.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Tooru?” Tooru didn’t say anything. Instead, he climbed up the man’s lap, settling his leg over strong thighs. He buried his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

“Iwa-chan…” his usual whiny voice sounds so genuinely sad that Iwaizumi didn’t push him off. Instead, a toned arm wrapped around Tooru’s exposed midsection, palm pressed flat on the skin of the man’s hip.

“Tooru?” he murmured. Oikawa whined. Iwaizumi was about to ask again when more visitors entered the room. “Mattsun?” he cocked his eyebrows at the person his friend is holding. Mattsun just shrugged and gestured to the man on his lap. He wasn’t really affectionate in public, but at the sight of Mattsun’s slightly agitated stance, something was clearly wrong. He pressed close to Tooru’s face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“They touched me.” Was all Tooru said. Iwaizumi inhaled a sharp breath, finally realizing what all the commotion was about. His fingers drew soothing circles on Tooru’s skin in an attempt to calm the man. No wonder Mattsun was also agitated.

No one was allowed to touch Tooru.

“It’s okay,” he said. Tooru sniffed as he rubbed his face on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. The air was colder up here compared to the packed crowd at the floor below in the club and the halter top and booty shorts he was wearing barely covered anything.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru was close to tears on his lap, and Iwaizumi tightened his hold around him. “Iwa-chan make it better.”

“Of course, baby.” Iwaizumi promised. He pressed a kiss in Tooru’s soft hair. His held his free hand out to Hanamaki next to him. Wordlessly, the man bent down and pulled open a compartment to retrieve something. He passed it to Iwaizumi’s hand, and the metal felt heavy and cold on his skin. Mattsun who saw the exchange pushed the person he was holding to the floor, kicking the back of their knees for good measure. As the person groaned as they fell, Mattsun went to the door and locked it. He stood there as Hanamaki got up to stand guard next to him.

Tooru shivered when Iwaizumi’s lips travelled to his skin. He whined – he’s always whiney, Iwaizumi thinks – and Iwaizumi couldn’t help the smirk on his face. Desperate lips found his, and he pressed into the pretty boy in his lap, distracting him as he unlocked the safety of the gun in his other hand.

“Iwa-” Tooru gasped, but Iwaizumi just swallowed his voice with another kiss.

“Shh,” Iwaizumi said to his lips, and Tooru closed his eyes as he drowned in the love and affection his partner is giving him. He was melting in Iwaizumi’s lap, his body sliding down slightly. Iwaizumi pulled him up effortlessly, and at the easy show of strength, how he could feel Iwaizumi’s biceps flex under the other’s thin dress shirt, Tooru let himself be consumed.

He didn’t even hear the sound of the gun as Iwaizumi pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh damn like i honestly got a lil hot and bothered writing this HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA Oikawa dancing in a sexy outfit? yes. Iwa-chan's arms and thighs? yes. hundred times yes


	5. bloodlust

Inarizaki

594 words

JVLA - Such a Whore (Stellular Remix)

Steady, calloused hands whisked the matcha in the bowl. It was a quiet night so far. When he was done whisking, he set the whisk aside and poured the drink into a cup. He took in its bitter scent before tilting it to his lips to take a sip.

It was then the door slid open.

“Kita-san,” the man at the door regarded him. Kita hummed, placing the cup back onto its tray. His hands rested back onto his thighs, folded politely like the proper man that he is.

“Yer gonna tear the shoji, Aran.” He said as he eyed the strong grip Aran had on the paper-thin sliding door. Aran quickly pulled his hand away, lowering his head slightly in apology. “What’s gotten you so worked up this late in the night?” What Aran told him didn’t surprise him at all. He gracefully stood up, adjusting the sleeves of his haori that had ridden up as he made his drink. Edges of his tattoo sleeve of a kitsune peeked out at times as he moves.

Aran led him to the open grounds of the place. In the middle, he could see the mess. He barely blinked an eye at the bodies littered around the two people standing in the middle. One had his blood up to his elbows, and one has his shirt painted red and dripping. Kita knew it was originally white.

“Atsumu. Osamu.” He called. Osamu looked up to where he was ready to punch the half-alive man Atsumu was holding up for him. At their leader’s call, the two dropped what they were doing. Kita stepped closer, signaling Aran to stay and stand behind. Other of his men had no protest in that order. Until their bloodlust is sated, the Miya twins weren’t something anyone dared to cross paths with.

“Good evenin’, Kita-san,” Atsumu grinned, specks of blood marring his handsome face. His sharpened canines glinted under the moonlight. Kita walked closer, careful, steady and unafraid. As he sidestepped a mangled body, Atsumu’s grin disappeared.

“Kita-san, no. You’ll get dirty.” Osamu sounds worried, and Kita wanted to laugh.

“If that were my main concern, I wouldn’t get out of my way to see ye two,” Kita answered. Atsumu dropped the man he was holding away harshly as he made his way to Kita. Despite him basically dripping in blood, and the clothes Kita’s wearing was in no way cheap, he still opened his arm to welcome the man. Atsumu quickly latched onto Kita’s side, and it wasn’t a surprise to Kita to feel teeth on his shoulder. He merely looked up to Osamu and held his other arm open. Like his brother, Osamu walked over to him as well. Osamu wasn’t bitey, so as Kita welcomed him, the grey-haired male just rested his forehead on Kita’s shoulder.

“Kita-san,” Osamu murmured onto his clothes. Kita chuckled as his hand buried itself in Osamu’s hair. The taller man sighed as he leaned into the touch.

“A rowdy pair, you two,” Kita said. Atsumu’s blood-soaked hand crept up and he clutched on Kita’s haori, the blood seeping into the expensive material. Kita just pressed a palm to Atsumu’s cheek, and the blonde shuddered and closed his eyes, finally feeling the raging energy from before slowly seeping out. He slowly released his bite. Osamu was also calming down, aided by Kita’s hands massaging his scalp. “Always creatin’ trouble.”

“But you love us,” Atsumu mumbled. Kita could feel Osamu nodding on his shoulder. Kita laughed out loud this time. He sighed contently.

“Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved the concept of Inarizaki in like, a traditional compound. Also, KITA WITH A KITSUNE ARM SLEEVE TATTOO HAHAHAAAAAA I AM HOT AND BOTHERED THANK YOU VERY MUCH.  
> also the lyrics of this song is just so dumb but the beat? damn


End file.
